fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room, Saturday morning

Today was Bruce's birthday, although hardly anyone knew that. He wasn't usually one for birthday celebrations, after all. It just didn't seem the same without his parents. But he was willing to make a slight change to his routine of brooding this time. After all, he was seventeen. He had now officially lived more than half of his life without his parents. And even though the pain of that loss was still as raw as it was when he was a child, he felt he could take the opportunity to embrace something from his youth.

And so Bruce was in the common room, eating some cereal he claimed on his way back to his room last night and watching the old Gray Ghost show on DVD. It was his favorite show when he was a kid. It probably wasn't too surprising that seeing a heroic masked man fight for what was right left a mark on him.

Bruce felt that a tribute to his childhood was probably the beat gift he could possibly give himself. And he could confirm that the Rice Krispies from last night weren't poisoned.

[OOC: Open CR! Come see Bruce be a normal human being for his birthday!]

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They were made of hypocrisy here.

"He's wearing a cape," Tony pointed out. "It's just asking for something bad to happen. Never mind the theatrics that Bruce things it brings."

"What's wrong with capes?" Stephanie asked. "I think they have style."

Don't knock her cape, Tony.

Marvel was largely anti-cape, Steph. Deal with it.

"Someone could grab it easily," Tony replied. "Or it could catch on something."

Yeah, that was because Marvel -- oh, that argument would never end, would it?

"Eh, I guess. But they look really cool," Stephanie countered. Because capes never seemed to have those problems in her world, for the most part. Practicality was silly, don't you know.

DAMN IT, DC.

"But it's just not practical. A superhero costume should be practical."

And not neon colors. HINT HINT.

"It should make an impression, too," argued the girl who occasionally made Batman want to facepalm with her tendency toward theatrics. "I mean, if someone jumped down at you wearing a cape that's all . . . swooshy and fluttery, you'd double-take, I bet. Don't tell me you wouldn't."

Also, at least she had pants.

"And wonder if they escaped from a theater group," Tony replied, shaking his head and laughing.

"By the time you were done wondering that, they'd have a chance to punch you in the face." NOT THAT SHE HAD A THING FOR PUNCHING PEOPLE IN THE FACE. Stephanie grinned at him. "Weird is good, if you ask me."

". . . are we really thinking about how this would work in real life?"

Oooh, irony.

"Well, Bruce and I were talking about what would have to go into that sort of thing. Training and stuff."

Of course Bruce was thinking about it. "And now I have to know," Stephanie told him. "What sort of ideas did you come up with?"

"Finding a retired hero to be trained seems to be the best so far," Tony replied, already planning to make Mr. Rogers' life a living hell.

Stephanie was already regretting not asking her Bruce more about his own training when she'd been home. (Okay, not that she expected him to have told her all that much.)

"That sounds logical," she had to agree. Because when you got an active hero to train you, ~~that plotline got inexplicably dropped~~ they tended to be too busy to keep it up. "Make sure if you do, you ask their opinion on capes."

"And I'm sure they'd agree with me."

Stephanie sat up halfway and playfully glared at him. "Oh, really? You're that sure about it?"

Sure, if you were going to ask someone in the Marvelverse . . .

"Of course," Tony replied, settling back smugly. "I'm Tony Stark. I'm usually right about these things."

No, that would be math.

"I didn't know you were such an expert on the subject," Stephanie retorted. "Sheesh, see if you get a doughnut now, Mister I-Know-Everything."

"Well, I am secretly a superhero," Tony totally didn't joke. At all. But he was grinning while he said it, so the chances of her taking him seriously were hopefully minimal.

Lucky you, Tony; Stephanie assumed anyone who would just say that was kidding about it, because hi, secret identities were serious business, certain now-ex-boyfriends who shall remain nameless and kept calling her by name.

"Because you so struck me as the type," she informed him deadpan. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"A capes?" Tony assured her. "Are a no. It was an official memo."

"Oh, yeah?" Despite what she'd said a little while ago, Stephanie relented and offered him a doughnut, because she was nice like that. "Who'd that come down from? Some official superhero league?"

They have those?

Tony grinned, accepting the doughnut cheerfully. "Oh yeah. SHIELD sent it out and everything."

Yeah. What of it?

"And now I know you're pulling this all out of your ass," Stephanie declared. "Come on, SHIELD?"

"It's real, I swear," Tony replied. "Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate."

Try making that part up.

"They're like a really high tech global police group."

". . . someone was really bored enough to make up an acronym like that?"

Excuse her for being a little dubious here.

Glass houses, Steph. Stones. Stop with the throwing.

Tony shrugged. "I think it came after the overly long name."

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